


Burning Glances, Turning Heads

by itsabravenewworld, loveinisolation



Category: Glee
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/itsabravenewworld, https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinisolation/pseuds/loveinisolation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sebastian Smythe attends a masquerade ball thrown by Queen Hudson, his intention is only to eat, drink, and make merry with a pretty young man or two. He doesn’t expect to become entranced with one Kurt Hummel, heir to the throne of Italy, nor does he anticipate the less than ideal turn the night will take when acts on his attraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Glances, Turning Heads

The bitter winds hit along Sebastian’s mouth and cheeks turning them bright red from the cold. There was snow littering the ground around him in tufts of white and he could just hear the sound of music playing in the distance. The wind was biting at his collar bones where they were left exposed by the fitted jacket he wore, and he shivered and kept shuffling towards the warmth of the building housing a party. The black lace around the wrists of his jacket irritated his skin and scratched against his nose as he rubbed at it to try to warm himself up. He folded his arms tightly and tugged at the soft burgundy fabric of the jacket to cover more of his skin as he rounded the corner and another gust of wind hit him hard.

  
He could see the doors of the hôtel now, the music increasing in volume as he made his way forward. There were guards at the door, certainly there with the intent of keeping out people like Sebastian. Sebastian lifted his mask, briefly admiring the red and gold emblazoned with music notes, before affixing it to his face and tying the silk ribbons to keep it in place and entering the guard’s line of sight. He adjusted the mask over his eyes so that he could see properly through the eye holes and then moved swiftly, ducking into the back of a group just about to pass by the guards and keeping his gaze carefully averted to avoid being recognized.  
  
He managed to slip in unnoticed, giving a false name to the large man announcing guests, and skirting past the man he recognized as a client of his. Though it was unlikely the man would say anything even if he did recognize Sebastian — the fear of revealing why he knew him more than adequate to keep most men quiet — it was always Sebastian’s preference to avoid clients in other contexts as much as possible. Once he had made his way fully inside he began to relax knowing he has little chance of being recognized hidden amongst the throngs of people crowding the room.  
  
For the first while, Sebastian kept near the edges of the room, grabbing up a glass of wine and bits of food far more decadent than anything he had been able to afford in recent years. It all reminded him very much of how his family had lived during his childhood; decadent foods and luxurious parties that often served the sole purpose of showing off how very rich they were.  
  
Of course none of his family’s status, or their luxe lifestyle, had meant anything after Sebastian’s parents had died and left Sebastian to discover that they had been living a grand life without working for so long that there was actually precious little of their fortune left. Sebastian had lived off the remainder for a time while searching for work, but his own reputation as a bit of a scoundrel with a distinct lack of work ethic had been against him and left Sebastian unable to find proper work.  
  
Without anywhere to go and no more fortune to keep him known in high society, Sebastian had quickly become ignored by those circles in which he used to travel, and his reputation had fallen still further as he had made both money and a name for himself as one of the most sought after prostitutes in the city. Unfortunately his infamy made him more than a little unwelcome nearly everywhere he went.  
  
Occasionally, as with the party at the Hôtel Saint-Pol, he would sneak into parties in order to once again experience the life of the rich — the life Sebastian had once been so very fond of. And occasionally to even get revenge against the people who had let him become nothing.  
  
The reality was that these parties were, and always had been, fairly boring. Sebastian had only developed the habit of sneaking in for the taste of luxury (the free flowing alcohol and decadent food) and the nostalgia that always accompanied anything that reminded him of the world he grew up in, but the stiff, overly formal atmosphere had never particularly enthralled him.  
  
The whole life of luxury did not allow for a terrible amount of actual things to do — seemingly boredom was required in order to prove that one could stay wealthy without having to lift a finger. In his boredom Sebastian had become a troublemaker early on, and then as a teenager had rapidly gained a reputation for being rather promiscuous (and for being somewhat indiscriminate regarding partners).  
  
That, of course, was one thing beyond the food that Sebastian had always enjoyed about such parties: being able to observe all the attractive young men dressed in their fancy clothes. There weren’t nearly enough pretty young things that came to see Sebastian as clients, so these parties gave him a chance to appreciate well-dressed, rich boys his own age.  
  
Sebastian worked his way around the room, careful to thread through groups often enough not to look like he was alone, knew no one, and had no intention of getting to know any of the people around him. Being so anti-social at such a party and skulking around the edges of the room would certainly trigger alarm bells in the guards’ minds. Sebastian continued to pick at the offered food and wander amongst the groups, nodding greetings to a number of people whom he was sure would not recognize him in order to keep up the appearance of socializing while really simply watching, hoping to find a young man (or two) with whom he might share a tryst.  
  
Instead of finding the kind of short lived entertainment he had been searching for, as Sebastian made his way toward the far end of the hall where the King, Queen and their close entourage were perched picturesquely around the thrones, he had spotted a single lithe figure and had set his sights a little higher.  
  
He was obviously one of the noble born, mask resting on high, pale cheek bones, and strong, slim figure dressed in rich fabrics; it was clear he belonged to the world of royal parties. It was also clear that he would not be the sort to follow Sebastian to a secluded section of hallway for a quick tumble following only a few brief innuendos. No, this man was certainly more the type to need to be romanced and Sebastian was more than happy for the challenge.  
  
Sebastian observed the man for some time; watched him talk to a petite woman while trying to look like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere other than talking to her. The woman seemed intent on chatting the young man’s ear off, waving her hands in emphasis and stepping towards him when she became particularly emphatic. As Sebastian worked his way through the crowd towards the pair he could see the man’s clear exasperation notching up until he looked about ready to snap.  
  
Sebastian was nearing the pair when the woman made what was clearly a rather cheeky comment before giggling. He watched them exchange a few more brief words before the woman flounced off leaving the man looking both relieved and lonely, sipping idly from a goblet of wine.    
  
Sebastian continued to advance towards the man, eyes locked on him and scanning over his straight nose and slightly pouted lips as he moved. He was barely steps away when the young man seemed to search the room, looking for nothing in particular but finding Sebastian’s gaze with alarmed bright blue eyes. Sebastian watched the man blush prettily and glance away, only to return to looking at Sebastian as though startled to find someone admiring him.  
  
Without another thought to what people around them might think, Sebastian extended his hand and asked the man to dance.  
  
~~~~~  
  
He was allowed immediately through the doors by the extraordinarily large guards posed at the door. Kurt knew that some of the only security that the royal family required was this pair in the entrance and a half-dozen more in the main ballroom, standing guard around the circular room and watching for disturbances or potential danger. There was only face that he immediately recognized and matched to a name, and that was Puck, one of the Queen’s guards. The man politely bowed his head in respect to Kurt, lips twitching up when Kurt immediately approached him, abruptly leaving a woman mid-sentence, staring after him.  
  
“Hello Noah,” Kurt greeted. Puck accepted his outstretched hand and shook it, though not without a disgruntled noise at Kurt using his legal name instead of his self-acquired nickname of Puck. Kurt resisted a small chuckle at his acquaintance's outfit (they weren’t friends, that would be absurd, no matter how much Kurt wished it to be so); his pants an obnoxious yellow color (“The precise color of vomit,” he bit back) and looking as if they were inflated with air, bulging out from his hips and thinning again at the ankles. The hat of course, was laughable enough on it’s own — color matching the pants with bells hanging from tiny threads at the end of peaks hanging on the outside.  
  
“Kurt,” he replied. He was one of the few that could address him as such — at least without being reprimanded, or in extreme cases, much to Kurt’s dismay, beheading. Kurt thoroughly enjoyed his company; Puck was also one of the few workers present in France who could speak multiple languages fluently, including Kurt’s own. “Was a long trip, eh?” In reality his travelling had actually taken a shorter amount of time than that of most others present, but he could still  moan about it if he pleased. Noah chuckled deeply when Kurt groaned.  
  
“Very much so, yes."  
  
“I hope you find everything to your liking then, sir, as you've come such a long distance,” Puck bowed once more, before coughing and demanding the hall’s attention. “May I present, Prince Kurt de Clermont, accompanying us from Italy.” He took his overly large staff and pounded it against the floor twice with dull thuds, then continued announcing more of the masked patrons gallantly striding through the entryway. Very few of the other spectators looked to Kurt, and he was glad for the attention to be away from him. Kurt assumed Puck would not mind his leaving and turned, continuing on his way.  
  
Keeping his head held as high as he could while still watching his feet move, he moved slowly and surely through the grand hallway, adjusting the mask covering his eyes just above his cheekbones and forehead. He froze, fingers clenching out of instinct when a bellowing voice, which of course he recognized, called his name. He groaned to himself in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “Mannaggia cristo.”  
  
“Kurt! Kurt my dear,” Rachel had finally caught up with his stride, that was strangely (not intentionally, of course not) faster. She was walking just a bit faster than a lady of her stature should have to, but the Duchess was not one to ponder on proper etiquette when she was set to something. Which right now, appeared to be pulling Kurt in a too-tight hug, forceful and causing Kurt to wonder how long it would take for her to completely steal all of his breath away from his lungs to save him from the social nightmare that was sure to be the Queen’s masquerade ball.  
  
To Kurt, any event involving dancing — dancing with a woman — was sure to be dreadful for him to endure. The Queen was aware of his preferences, she had guessed a while ago, but he had been told by her that it did not matter if he enjoyed the company of small dogs, he was still royal, and what he preferred was nothing she would disagree with.  
  
Truth be told, Kurt had never actually been with a man before. He was too frightened, frightened of the prospect of being used for his money or his popularity — even for his body. He didn’t quite understand, though, who would want his body of all the men, so his paranoia was pinpointed particularly to one thing: the money. Anybody who had ever tried to woo him also tried to convince him to pay for for their outing, assuming he had enough money to be able to buy their food, and though it wasn't polite of them to ask Kurt would almost always oblige.  
  
In Italy, the way that Kurt lived didn't affect the people's opinions of him much. When he had admitted to his father, the king, of his sexuality Burt Hummel hadn't overreacted at all, quite the contrary. Truth be told (as Kurt was told by Burt), he had always been curious as to why his son didn't glance at beautiful women as they passed by when they would blatantly stick their chests out for his attention.  
  
It was true, Kurt had realized then. His eyes would seem to just pass over them, occasionally wandering over their pompous dresses and fluffed hair, but never for too long and certainly never hungrily like most of the men would at his age — his gazes were calculating and unusually innocent.  
  
~~~  
  
Kurt could remember his first attraction to another person in a romantic way. It had been with a young vineyard worker; short and just muscled enough, and sweeter than any of the grapes grown all around his home. The boy had requested an audience with the king in order to present him with a gift for his birthday that day. The boy, Blaine, had made King Burt an adorable basket of all different colored grapes, beautifully organized in a circle surrounding a knitted blanket made by his sickly grandmother.  
  
Burt was much too sick with heart troubles to greet Blaine himself, and Kurt was appointed to respond to all of the people who had scheduled something that day.  
  
When Kurt had first seen him it felt as if his heart had stopped and something had suddenly wedged itself in his windpipe. Blaine had simply said, "For his majesty, to help aid his illness and for a happy birthday," with the largest and prettiest smile Kurt had ever seen from a man. All that Kurt had been able do was take the basket with a few nervously mumbled words — and god he had never been so nervous around a person before. Then his guards hsd taken Blaine away with a hand on each of his shoulders. Before he left, Blaine had waved his fingers back and forth quickly to Kurt, and Kurt had simply sat there there, dumbfounded and completely and utterly charmed on the throne as the other boy departed.  
  
Kurt had seen Blaine once after that when his father, Mr. Anderson, rudely barged into the castle, demanding to see the King. Blaine had been standing quiet, morosely behind his father, staring at the floor then at Kurt, looking like he wished he were anywhere else. Kurt had looked from Blaine to Burt, gauging his reaction to the interruption.  
  
“Mio figlio stupido,” the man had begun before Burt could speak. “He gave away the grapes I was going to sell and I demand compensation, your Majesty. It was most of our week's profit, sir."  
  
Burt had looked to Kurt then to Blaine, at whom Kurt was openly staring.  
  
“Ah,” Kurt hadn’t been able to help but interrupt, smiling, if a little harshly, at the man. “Blaine, I believe?” The boy had nodded, stepping forward before his father pulled him back by the hair with a shout.  
  
Burt had stood up, giving the man the sharpest look Kurt would probably ever see from him. “I would suggest that you keep your hands off of him while you are in my presence, Mr. Anderson. Do what you will at your home, but this is my home. Now let the boy speak.” When his father’s hands had untangled from Blaine’s hair unwillingly, he had moved closer to the throne, while the stoic guards stared between the two families, wondering.  
  
“So you are the one who presented those lovely grapes,” Burt had spoken, rubbing Blaine’s head fondly. Burt was a kind king who loved all of his subjects, even cruel ones such as Mr. Anderson. When Blaine had nodded, his eyes had flickered to Kurt before moving back — the movement had not gone unnoticed by Burt, but it was left uncommented on. “They were extremely lovely, and I believe they worked. Such a lovely birthday gift as well.” Mr. Anderson had looked stunned, most likely not having known that it had been the king’s birthday. Blaine had smiled, and Burt had offered Mr. Anderson compensation for the loss of profit over the grapes.  
  
As the two men talked, Blaine and Kurt had stared at each other, not knowing what to say. They had exchanged nods of the head when the Andersons left, and then Kurt had never seen the boy again. He hadn’t been able to help feeling just a little more heartbroken with every day and sometimes Kurt had teared up while he was lying in bed, knowing that there was nothing he could do in the situation but cry.  
  
~~~  
  
Even though Kurt could have anything he wanted, anything in the world, the prospect of actually taking what he wanted seemed somehow wrong to him, especially with his degree of power and influence, and with how little his people had. He refused to become pompous, demanding things that he didn’t absolutely require. And a suitor was one of those unnecessary things.  
  
Kurt had realized long ago that he didn’t need a queen (or king, even, but that would not do) to rule his country. His father had done it for nearly eight years on his own, and so could he, he decided. Sometimes though he envied his people, because they were able to love freely and he was not, even though in so many other ways they had much less than he did.  
  
Kurt snapped himself back to reality when he realized Rachel had been speaking for quite a while, and he had not heard a single word she was saying. “I’m so sorry, could you please repeat that.”  
  
Rachel looked a bit miffed, but nodded. “Oh yes, certainly. I asked how you father was doing, and was wondering why he was not here currently.”  
  
“Ah,” Kurt started as they both sat down for a moment to talk, even though what he wanted was to run as quickly as he could. Rachel was one of the few women that he couldn’t stand to be in the presence of. Most others apparently shared the sentiment because nearly everyone avoided her at all costs. The Queen herself wouldn’t have even sent Rachel an invitation to the masque, but Finn had convinced her to, and Quinn had begrudgingly agreed. Kurt wouldn't speak of such things aloud, but he could swear King Finn and the duchess shared more than a fondness for each other. Before letting his thoughts get away with him again, he spoke. “My father couldn’t make it today due to his health. He is doing better than he was before, but not by much, I’m afraid.”  
  
Rachel nodded her sympathy and pursed her lips.  “A pity. But you’re here now, so try to enjoy yourself! Drink, dance with a pretty girl,” she winked and wiggled her eyebrows. Kurt just barely resisted the urge to childishly roll his eyes at her — he knew better, but the temptation was still there and stronger than he usually felt it when another person started to annoy him. But Rachel Berry hasn’t just started to annoy him; maybe that was the difference, her particular brand of irritation had been present for years. Her loud, arrogant behavior had caused her to be the brunt of many a joke from delegates (not that Kurt particularly liked them either). Of course, the rumours of Duchess Berry's affairs with Duke Broderick Svetoslav of Bulgaria during the previous year's formal ball hadn't helped her image much. People despised her even more so then than they had before. Kurt's view of her, however, hadn't changed much — mostly because his opinions of her weren't particularly high to begin with.  
  
"Oh yes, I shall try to do so, Ms. Berry. And you as well, you as well." Though he could barely stand her, he meant what he said. With a nod, Rachel left him there sitting in his lonesomeness on the elegant chair.  
  
He picked up his silver goblet, taking a sip of the cool, sharp wine and humming contentedly. In his childhood, he had early learned the importance of properly made wine. Though the taste didn’t quite sit well with him immediately (or for many years, actually) he had grown to appreciate it more, and even to like it, especially when his only other choice was the water, which — though it was much better tasting than the commoner’s supply — was quite disgusting.  
  
As Kurt looked around the room — first towards the band, playing lively music and stomping their feet along with the tune, and then to the growing crowd of people, all dancing or chatting — his eyes stopped on a particular man wearing a burgundy jacket, and whose eyes were locked right on him. “Oh,” he said quietly, forcing himself to look away from the man. A blush colored Kurt’s cheeks lightly and he twisted his body in order to face the table away from the inquisitive eyes that were still watching — now he knew it wasn’t just a passing of eyes.  
  
He imagined that man walking up to him, asking him to dance with a hand extended to him and a glint in his eyes —  
  
Oh. So he wasn’t imagining it.  
  
He was utterly confused, mouth hanging open unattractively. The man chuckled once, and maybe it was fondly, but that made very little sense to Kurt considering they didn’t even know each other. “Excuse me?”  
  
~~~~~  
  
“I said,” Sebastian repeated, smirking down at the seated man with his hand that had been outstretched now placed on his hip, “That I was wondering if you would care to join me for a dance.” Sebastian took a moment and noted the details of the other man’s outfit, including wearing a mask which almost exactly matched his own, decorated with the musical notes on a scroll-colored background.  
  
~~~  
  
“Part of a pair, this one,” the elderly man from the shop had explained to him, handing him the mask with shaking hands. “His partner has long been lost since it’s original making.” He had bowed his head mournfully, speaking in a heavy French accent and continued on to lead Sebastian over to the counter. There had been a twinkle in the man’s eyes, and Sebastian hadn’t been able to resist purchasing the mask when the man had said, “One day I hope that the pair will be reunited once again.” Sebastian had bought the mask, highly doubtful that the old man’s hopes would be fulfilled.  
  
~~~  
  
Though the coloring was different Sebastian could tell this was his mask’s match with startling clarity. Where Sebastian’s was a red to match his clothing, his was a beautiful dark green that seemed to emphasize the color of his eyes — startling blue orbs staring him down even as he stood there. It contrasted sharply with his simple, elegant black attire. His eyes weren’t condescending or harsh (yet), just intense as they glared. And now Sebastian was frozen in shock as well, though hiding it more than the man in front of him was able to as he too noticed Sebastian's mask and his eyes widened.  
  
“Wherever did you get that mask, signore? Are you by chance from Italy as well?" Kurt was cocking his head curiously and Sebastian couldn't help but laugh directly at him. his laughter deepening when the man looked at him, confused. His hair was mussed in a lovely manner, and as Sebastian laughed at him, he was also resisting the urge to pull at the delicate brown strands and crush their mouths together, which of course would not be ideal for the occasion. Or anywhere in public, really.  
  
"No, no my dear, not quite. But you never answered me, I'm afraid. How about a dance, and I can explain all about this mask." It was a dirty trick, Sebastian knew that, using the poor man's curiosity against him for his own personal gain, but truly he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when the man’s gorgeous eyes were staring him down and flickering in — could that be irritation?

 

The man hummed thoughtfully, mischievously. "Though my curiosity is strong, I'm afraid I would have to decline." His blue eyes flicked back and forth, as if he were nervous, maybe he was, Sebastian thought. "It may not be best, regarding the presence of so many people." Ah, so the truth presents itself.  
  
Winking, Sebastian asked, "And if there were none? Would the circumstances be different?" When the other man could do nothing more than stare at him, creating the perfect impression of a fish out water, Sebastian chuckled. "I thought so. I hope you won't be offended when I say this, but it was quite easy for me tell."  
  
The man was blushing now, dark red with fury and embarrassment, and he went to stand, refusing Sebastian's hand that had reached out to help him with a swift slap. The playful man had disappeared and transformed into something that was completely different, harsh and fiery. "Pardon me, signore, but I believe that saying something offensive and praying for ignorance on my part about said insult, is a grand mistake," he hissed out the last word, nearly marveling in Sebastian's flinch, it seemed. He made to leave, and Sebastian gripped him by the arm to halt him.  
  
"Please, wait. I did not intend insult, I assure you." He dearly hoped he did not sound like he was pleading with the stranger that had piqued his interest, but he was aware that he most likely was.  
  
"Oh? And I'm to take your word, and just be under the assumptions that your intentions are completely pure? The words of an unfamiliar face mean little to me, I'm afraid." Kurt was glaring again, but he allowed Sebastian to grip his arm still. He was willing to listen, very likely waiting for an apology to be given; not expecting it, but prepared to receive it.  
  
Sebastian's top lip curled. "Quite honestly, I admit that my intentions may not be completely pure—"  
  
There was a scoff, and then the other man was storming away from him, having ripped free from his grip. Before he could consult his own mind, Sebastian's legs were moving him forward, after him. "My apologies. Pardon me," he said as he dodged past people to attempt and reach the man — he still hadn't gotten his name, but shouldn't he know it?    
  
When he had finally caught up to the man he was on the other side of the room, surrounded by a throng of people and talking animatedly, pretending to have not been rushing away. Two of the people by him were the king and queen, and the whole group had now all caught sight of him. "Oh no."  
  
"You," that same familiar man, a client,  from before spoke. Not a pleasant one, he recalled. His mustache was thick like a brush and felt too rough against bare skin, and Sebastian had the displeasure of remembering this fact as he curled his lip at the man. "You cannot be here!"  
  
"It is he, the one who lost everything," a woman nearby spoke aloud, and her eyes ran over him humored and horribly cruel. Sebastian had no eyes for them, only for the man he had been chasing who had stopped speaking. "Such a shame too, he has such a pretty face."  
  
There was an outburst of shouts throughout the room, nearly deafening Sebastian as he was grabbed by his shirt and tugged roughly by outraged patrons surrounding him. He shouted, his eyes widening in fear, and he could see Kurt looking at him over the mustached man's furious glare. Kurt too looked fearful, but for Sebastian, not for himself. He spoke to the queen, who had been idly standing by watching, calculating. The king said nothing; his eyes traveled away to the food table, barely recognizing the scene ahead of him, and remained seated.  
  
Just as a man, David, called out "Queen, you must have him arrested!" from his spot next to Kurt, placing what seemed to be an unwelcome hand on his shoulder, causing him to squirm, the Queen stood. She banged her large staff against the ground, and shrieked, "Silence!" Her voice echoed in the hall and the band stuttered to a halt, the members looking at her in fear. "No, do go on," she motioned to the conductor, who reluctantly raised his arms once again and directed them into a new, noticeably quieter song. "I have to do nothing," she spoke sharply to David, the tone of her voice icy and horrifying in its coldness, " and I would advise you to remember your place. Though I might hint to you that it is certainly not giving orders to the queen whom you serve." David had paled, backing away from both the Queen and Kurt as well; the latter was just observing the exchange, oddly at ease.  
  
When David had finally gotten far enough away, Quinn turned forward, her voice projecting to all who were listening and her eyes as sharp as her voice, though less frightening when she looked to Sebastian. "Sebastian, my dear, it's been so long," with an extended hand, Sebastian was invited forward, and he took it gently, politely giving it a peck between the knuckles.  
  
"My lady," he greeted, his pulse pounding in his neck from the nerves as he backed away again. Quinn, who seemed satisfied, returned to her throne. Her nails clacked against the wood as she thought for a moment before clearing her throat delicately. Sebastian chanced a glance at the blue-eyed man but Quinn spoke at that same moment demanding his attention once again.  
  
"Though I cannot say I am particularly pleased by the fact that you were able to sneak past my guards," Sebastian swallowed, knowing what those poor guards’ fates would be, "I am at a loss, really. Why the need to sneak in?"  
  
"My— my lady?" Sebastian questioned, not understanding her question.  
  
"Well,  you are still of royal blood, are you not?" Quinn's eyes twinkled, with something other than malice — maybe even kindness — and she motioned for one of her squires, curling her finger twice. She whispered in his ear, and he ran off, returning moments later with a scroll.  
  
"Sebastian, will you step forward and read this, please?"  
  
He hesitated before obeying, sneaking closer and gripping the paper in his hand, reading from it. "You are cordially invited to Queen Hudson's masquerade to celebrate the courtship of her daughter," he paused, then went on when Quinn requested. "All ladies and gentlemen of noble stature are welcome.” Sebastian paused briefly, considering. “But my lady, I never received an invitation."  
  
“It matters not, you are still as able to be here, Sebastian.” She raised her voice again, asking the room at large, “Would anyone like to question this?”  
  
No one spoke. Though many of those in attendance ruled their own countries, France held a greatest threat against all of them. And France's queen was an awfully frightening woman.  
  
"Good," she said, pleased with the silence amongst them. "Now I believe we're done here, and Sebastian?"  
  
"Yes?" He paused mid-step.  
  
"I think we are short of dancers this evening. I remember that you are particularly skilled, would you be willing to take part?"  
  
Sebastian bowed his head in consent. “Of course my lady, I would be delighted,”  he said, voice still full of some amount of awe at having not been unceremoniously ejected from the party, but rather welcomed with (not quite) open arms. “Did you wish me to dance with a particular one of your guests? I am sure all the ladies are equally lovely.”  
  
Sebastian might have been pushing it a little; Quinn had known him before his exile from the life of nobility and knew as well as anyone that Sebastian was not one to pander to the wishes of others — or one to find ladies of any sort particularly enticing as dance partners. He was, however, as good as anyone else in the room at playing the games of high society and making his way into the good graces of others, if only superficially.  
  
Quinn cast him an appraising look that clearly told him she could see through his facade, approached him until they were feet away from each other and then spoke in a voice slightly lower than the one she had been using before; her words now only meant for Sebastian, where before they had been intended to reach the whole room so that her acknowledgement of Sebastian was witnessed by them all, forcing them to accept her decision. “I believe you had a dance partner in mind already,” she nearly whispered, eyes flickering to the side to where Kurt was standing and trying — without much subtlety — to look like he wasn’t watching Sebastian and Quinn’s interaction.  
  
Sebastian ducked his head, an uncharacteristic blush creeping up his neck from his collar as he too glanced towards Kurt. “I...” Sebastian began, but the words got stuck in his throat. He coughed lightly and tried again, “I don’t believe my advances are entirely wanted.”  
  
Quinn smirked briefly at Sebastian, seeming about to laugh, but her smile softened slightly when she caught the genuine distress on his face. “I do not believe your advances are entirely unwanted, Sebastian. You ought to try asking again.” Sebastian considered momentarily — his eyes caught sight of the mask that matched his own and he felt a tug in his gut that spoke of his instant attraction and connection to the man wearing it — and then nodded in agreement.  "Though not now," she added, "wait until full-room dancing begins." He bowed politely to Quinn before stepping away, the crowd parting for him. He hoped there weren’t too many eyes still on him, and then he realized he truly didn't care if they were or not.  
  
There were only two that really mattered.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Those eyes watched Kurt as he walked through the space made for him, looking back at him multiple times. "Sebastian Smythe?" He asked the queen in shock, not looking away from the retreating figure. "That was he?"  
  
"Yes," Quinn answered him, returning to her seat again and looking uninterested suddenly, eyeing him from the side multiple times.  
  
Kurt tried to hide his surprise at hearing the near infamous name, schooling his features back into a polite, detached mask. He had, of course, heard of Sebastian Smythe — had quite possibly even seen the man many years ago when they were both just a few years younger — and knew about his fall from the good grace of society. Kurt had felt for Sebastian when he had heard about the death of his parents, having lost his own mother many years earlier, but had heard little else beyond whispers of the disgrace the Smythe boy had become. Kurt had never been one who succumbed easily to rumours, and he hads tried not to let himself form an opinion without meeting the man himself. Now that he had, he was just more confused than he was prior to ever having spoken to Sebastian Smythe — and much more intrigued.  
  
Kurt stepped towards Quinn; he hoped she would divulge more information on the man, for it was apparent to Kurt that she knew more than he did and Kurt suddenly burned with the desire to know all he could. He wanted to know more about the man, more about what motivation he might have in asking Kurt to dance, and why Quinn had gone out of her way to make Sebastian welcome in a room full of people who firmly believed he ought not to be.  
  
Kurt waited until a random guest had finished speaking to Quinn before approaching her. The man had practically been kissing her feet, and Kurt had seen a guard preparing to drag him away had he not left her alone. There was a momentary grimace of distaste on Quinn’s face that Kurt was sure only he had noted. “I was hoping you might tell me more about Sebastian Smythe,” Kurt said quietly, hoping not to draw undue attention to the conversation.  
  
Quinn sighed lightly and turned clear, focused eyes to Kurt’s. “There is little you need to know about the man, at least from me. He was a victim of unfortunate circumstance, and has not always chosen the best path in life,” Quinn’s hand trailed briefly across her stomach, “but who among us has?” Kurt nodded thoughtfully, feeling his views of Sebastian Smythe shift with every moment of conversation, softening towards him in a way Kurt had not anticipated. Quinn’s voice was authoritative but kind when she spoke again. “I suggest you allow him to tell you about himself, rather than relying on gossip. We are both well aware of how damaging people’s words may be when their opinions do not favour us.” Kurt bit his lip, unsure how to respond.  
  
He was about to walk away when Quinn reached out to grip his hand gently, causing Kurt to look her in the eye once again. “I know it may be difficult, but do please say yes when he asks you to dance.” Kurt was hardly certain of his movements after that, bowing and moving away from the front of the room where Quinn sat in something of a stunned trance.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Kurt laughed along with with Noah, whom he had been socializing with for the better part of the last half hour, and slapped him on the shoulder playfully. He had just almost forgotten about Sebastian Smythe, the man in the matching mask. Almost. He had still not asked Kurt to dance, and to be quite honest, Kurt was surprised (no, certainly not angry because that would imply that Kurt had wanted to be asked, which he certainly did not), because the night was halfway over and some of the younger children had even returned to their specific rooms provided to them by the Queen to sleep in.  
  
“Noah, you have more personality than any person I’ve seen here. If I wasn’t such good acquaintances with Her Majesty, I swear I would just steal you away to work for me,” Kurt told him after a particular jeer and a chuckle.  
  
“Well, sir,” Noah began, mischievously grinning and tapping him on the arm. Kurt was surprised that a worker of his stature was not at all shy to interact with someone of a higher social class than him. He was informal in his words, calmly discussing simple things with him and generally not concerned with the consequences of his words. “I would certainly have to accept if you offered, perhaps the Queen would accept both of our wishes.” Kurt knew he was half-joking, but there was the truth in his eyes; he truly did want to leave, Kurt realized, and maybe he had been waiting for an opportunity such as this one to do it.  
  
“Pardon?” Someone said, cutting off his thoughts once again and he turned, looking right at Sebastian’s masked face now only inches from his own. Kurt stumbled back just a bit, letting himself be steadied by Sebastian’s hand that had reached out and held onto his wrist. “My apologies, sir,” he said, and Kurt stopped. Before, it had been easy to reject Sebastian’s requests, simply because he seemed pompous and rude. But his face now, well, Kurt wasn’t exactly sure what to think of it. His mouth wasn’t twisted into a smile, but it was scrunched together with what Kurt assumed was nerves — was Sebastian nervous to speak to Kurt? “I would like to request for your hand in a dance.” His hand was reached out, not expectantly like before, but hopeful, Kurt noted.  
  
“Oh my,” Noah exclaimed behind him. Kurt looked back to him, and he was staring forward, acting as if he hadn’t seen a thing. His mouth twitched, though, and Kurt could tell he was thinking “do it.”  
  
Quinn’s words rang in his mind as he considered the question, watching Sebastian becoming more guarded as he stood, and slowly starting to inch his hand back, just in case Kurt said no.    
  
We are both well aware of how damaging people’s words may be when their opinions do not favour us.  
  
Say yes when he asks you to dance  
  
“Yes,” he replied, marvelling in how shocked Sebastian looked and grinning. Oh how he loved defying expectations. “Yes, I would be honored to,” he emphasized, reaching to stop Sebastian’s hand  where it had frozen in its movement. Sebastian’s eyes shone. Kurt allowed himself to be lead by Sebastian until they were near the middle of the dancing area, and in a moment of misjudgement, let himself be pulled close to Sebastian’s body and flush with his hips. He told himself that it was just the convenience of not having to pull away that kept him close as they began to move.  
  
He couldn't help but look around to the rest of the dancers around them. Some were glaring, but looked back to Quinn and knew it would be best not to cause trouble. Then he looked to Quinn, who was watching them both intently, checking for any issues that would come up. Kurt was aware that some of the guards had been ordered to keep a special eye on them, which he was grateful for.  
  
Sebastian had been staring intently at him, he realized when he looked back and focused on his dancing. They were spinning throughout the room, elegantly moving together- it was simple. Dancing with Sebastian was easier, he was actually much taller than Kurt was himself, and it was a completely new experience for him. He didn't feel graceless, he knew that Sebastian was leading him correctly and properly. Sebastian led them, his arm around Kurt’s waist firm and assurant, guiding their direction. Kurt felt warm from the bodily heat and the heat in his own face that didn't seem like it was going to fade any time soon.  
  
"Well signore, I must say that I am impressed by your skills," Kurt said, pleased. He made sure to stay proper, not slipping into informal code even though it would have been quite easy to.  
  
"My dear, you were told I am of royal blood, were you not?" Sebastian was smirking at him, as if he found him naive, and Kurt scoffed, blushing even deeper for having been so stupid.  
  
"Yes, yes right," Kurt mumbled to himself, looking down, embarrassed. Without stopping their movement, Sebastian stayed them in one spot, simply swaying them from side to side and tilted Kurt's chin up with the knuckle of his thumb. He smiled at Kurt’s darkened blush.  
  
"I meant no offense, sir. I merely jest." At Kurt's nod, he laughed. "I admit, it is quite a joy."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Teasing you, I think." Sebastian moved and twirled Kurt under his arm, and he couldn't help but laugh. Kurt had to admit, he was having more fun this night than he had expected. When he was lowered into a dip, Sebastian pretended to almost drop him, and Kurt shrieked. When he lifted him back up, laughing joyfully, Kurt slapped him along the arm.  
  
"I would suggest you don't do that again," Kurt threatened playfully. Sebastian raised his eyebrow in challenge. "I could tell the queen you harassed me," Sebastian was laughing and Kurt jutted his chin up, cheekbones splotched red, "and she would have you beheaded on the spot."  
  
Sebastian was watching him like a child watched an angry kitten, humoured. "Yes, because she would believe that you're simply miserable right now," he nodded his head to Quinn and when Kurt looked to her, she quickly averted her eyes, but couldn't quite mask the smile gracing her mouth. Kurt sighed, because he knew Sebastian was right.  
  
"Yes, I suppose it would make little difference now, wouldn't it?"  
  
The song ended at that moment, changing to a slow beat, and they paused. Neither of them moved or removed their hands from each other's bodies. After waiting for five, then ten seconds watching Kurt and gauging his body language, Sebastian started their movement once again with an overdramatic bob of his head. Kurt looked to him, unsure what to think.  
  
"I believe our song was over, Mr. Smythe," he said, sounding offended, but still shuffled his feet as they danced, more than willing to continue.  
  
Sebastian clutched his hand, indicating for Kurt to stop. Kurt felt himself go completely still, watching the movement of Sebastian's mouth. "You may leave if you so please, Kurt." It was an intelligent ruse, and they both knew it. It was proper etiquette to dance with your partner until your song was over, unless of course you were requested for another's presence. Even if Kurt had wanted to leave, he wouldn't because it was impolite, and Sebastian was aware of it, and taking advantage of his knowledge because he did not want to leave Kurt's presence.  
  
But the secret was that Kurt didn't want to either. He couldn't explain it to himself, but dancing with Sebastian, who was nearly a stranger, was oddly comforting. It made him much less nervous than having to socialize with someone that would see him much more often. Others could make judgements about him and they would be believed, but no one would truly believe someone like Sebastian.  
  
Kurt chided himself in his head; people weren't grouped together, it was wrong to do this. Trying to distract himself, he coughed, just a bit awkward, and stuttered out a question, "I, um — might I ask you a question? I — I would like to know more about you.” Kurt ducked his head, feeling a blush lighting his cheeks. "Curses of a curious mind, I suppose." Sebastian was listening, smiling at the embarassment clear on Kurt’s face.  
  
It was clear to Sebastian that Kurt was asking about the rumours that were commonly known about him, but he did not know what details Kurt might be aware of. Sebastian had vaguely hoped to avoid the subject with Kurt altogether, at least until he had wooed the man somewhat, but it was clear that Kurt already knew something about his life, and therefore the best course of action was just to tell him all about it.  
  
With a sigh Sebastian began recounting his story. “I am certain you have already heard of the misfortune I suffered after the death of my parents,” he paused and Kurt nodded briefly after a moment’s hesitation. “They had been unconcerned about finances for so long that they left me with little to live off of. My own reputation and unwillingness to change my way of living to adapt to my new circumstances quickly left me penniless and unable to find gainful employment as no one was willing to hire a known scoundrel without so much as a single previous job, nor anyone to speak on my behalf.”  
  
Sebastian paused, not quite able to meet Kurt’s eyes. Kurt, and most of society, already knew that much of Sebastian’s story, but Sebastian still had more to tell and he wasn’t too keen to tell this beautiful man about how he earned enough money to have a roof over his head, and filling (if tasteless) meals in his belly.  
  
It took another long minute to pull himself together and gather the courage to say what he really needed to. He steeled himself and glanced up to find Kurt’s curious gaze trained on him. “I lived on the streets for a time, unable to maintain the house any longer without income. And then —” Sebastian’s words cut off and he squeezed his eyes shut briefly. It wasn’t as though he was particularly ashamed of what he did — he did what he needed to do to get by, and honestly he enjoyed some aspects — but society’s view on promiscuity and Sebastian’s means of employment were entirely different, and it was quite likely that Kurt shared at least some of those opinions. “And then, one night — even though I was filthy and half-starved, shivering in some old clothes and blankets I had managed to take with me — a man approached me and asked if I was for sale.”  
  
He could hear Kurt’s sharp, shocked inhale of breath but didn’t look up at him, not wanting to see the judgement he was sure to find. “The amount he offered me was enough to buy food and a room in a cheap boarding house for a couple of nights. I accepted his offer, took the money and ate my first proper meal in months. I also informed him where he might find me should he want to return. Soon enough he was a steady client; he informed someone else where I might be found, and within weeks I had a consistent stream of men coming and going.” He finally allowed himself to flicker his eyes up quickly, and instead of seeing the judgement he had been anticipating, he saw nothing but compassion, and pity. He felt a flash of irritation and sadness. "Please, Kurt. Do not pity me."  
  
"But that is horrible," Kurt couldn't help but say, clenching his teeth together when he realized just how insensitive he was — Sebastian had asked him not to give him pity. "I mean — it must not have been easy."  
  
Sebastian shrugged, making them stutter in their dancing before continuing again, and Sebastian had almost forgotten that they were still in the ballroom surrounded by people who were most likely staring at them. Kurt was staring at him, visibly trying to hide his sadness for Sebastian's sake, and he looked gorgeous with his bright blue eyes blinking quickly.  
  
Let them look.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Another song began playing, and again, neither Kurt or Sebastian let go of each other. They were both too fascinated in each other to even look away as they pulled each other insurmountably closer until they were flush against each other, much more intimately than before.  
  
Kurt’s breath was hot against Sebastian’s neck, little puffs of too fast breath that gave away how affected Kurt was by the contact. He felt a little embarrassed, considering Sebastian probably was so used to this and he wouldn't react as strongly. When Sebastian leaned his cheek against the top of his head and shakily inhaled, Kurt felt like that thought was completely wrong. He had more questions that he wanted the answers to, of course, but he didn’t want to overstep, so he kept silent. As if he were able to read his mind, Sebastian leaned back, though he kept their faces imperceptibly close.  
  
“What troubles you, Kurt?”  
  
“I —” Kurt began, running a finger over Sebastian’s collar nervously, fidgeting. “I was curious, as to how you were left with nothing, and couldn’t you have lived with another relative?” Sebastian smiled sadly at him.  
  
“Ah, I wish it was that simple.” Now it was their fourth song, and people had finally stopped watching their every move, so Kurt let himself relax that last bit, and they were practically one being in their movement. Sebastian took this moment to shift his arm around Kurt’s waist, lower until it was comfortable in the swell of his hip. Kurt tried not to blush, because the placement was just a bit lower than what was respectable but he did not say anything, instead, waited for his answer while Sebastian curled his lip in, thinking. “I suppose half of the fault was mine in deciding my fate,” he finally said, and Kurt narrowed one eye curiously. “My parents, their fault was loving me too much, you see. And I was a child, I was spoiled, and demanded much more from them than I should have.” His expression morphed into something different then, heartbreakingly sad. “And my parents would have done anything for me. They bought me three horses at twelve years old.” He let out a bitter laugh at this, and Kurt tried to soothe him with the hand that was already running up and down his back. “But their really issue was, with all of the things they bought, and did with the money they had inherited, they never seemed to understand that any other money they would receive required actually working. When they passed, there was nearly none of their fortune left for me to live, at least decently, off of. And then there was nothing. I have two aunts on my mother’s side, and when my parents were gone, they were my only option for housing. They both rejected me at their doorstep. One was still bitter from a rivalry between her and my father, and the other was practically on her deathbed — incredibly frightening woman, she was. So I was alone, and as poor as dirt. I don’t regret what I did, Kurt.”  
  
Kurt was surprised to see that now Sebastian’s harsh eyes were trained on him. “Oh, no! No I’m not saying that —  I suppose I just wish you wouldn’t have had to do such things. Though it was necessary, it does not make it any less of a horrible thing, for you Sebastian.”  
  
Sebastian’s eyes were regretful now, trained on him. “Yes, true. Apologies.”  
  
“No need,” Kurt said with a tilt of his head to one side, smirking. Now that he knew everything about Sebastian, he felt a lot calmer about talking to him. Which was horrible really. “There is one more thing I did have a query about, though.”  
  
Sebastian hummed, his thumb tracing circles in Kurt’s exposed collarbone. “Yes?”  
  
“You didn’t truly need to share these things with me, so why did you? And why me?”  
  
The question made Sebastian go silent in thought for a long moment, and during that time, Kurt stared at their feet. Sebastian’s were much bigger than his, and were inexplicably close to his own, one was even in between his two shoes, and Kurt was shocked at how unfazed he was by the little amount of space between him and this stranger.  
  
But then again, he wasn’t really a stranger anymore, was he?  
  
“Mostly because you asked me, I think.” Kurt stayed silent, listening. “But that is quite the question indeed. One that I believe even I wasn’t fully prepared to know the answer to.” He waited, watching Kurt closely for something that Kurt couldn’t identify. Eventually, he said, “Well the truth is, at first I found you to be an extremely pretty face for a man.” When Kurt scoffed, feeling offended and made to move away, he tutted and held him there, close. “No, no there was a but in there. Though the fact doesn’t change that you are indeed very well endowed with looks,” he grinned wolfishly, running a fingertip along Kurt’s jaw, and Kurt let him, stunned,“You are also exquisitely fascinating to me, and you seem to draw me straight to you, my dear.”  
  
Kurt cleared his throat, not quite sure how to respond to the complement or the endearments that Sebastian was easily tossing at him. He couldn’t help his pleased smile, though he lowered his head bashfully. “You do well with flattery, I must say, Mr. Smythe.”  
  
“And you do well with accepting it.” They both chuckled and danced in silence for a couple of minutes, pulling each other closer.  
  
Eventually, Sebastian said “So Kurt, your accent suggests you are from Italy, yes?"  
  
"Si," Kurt replied with a giggle.  
  
“Then tell me, please, why is it that your last name is French, Kurt de Clermont?” He smirked devilishly, and Kurt stared at him. “Oh, do not panic, I heard the worker announce your name when you arrived.”  
  
Kurt coughed. “Well, my mother —” he cut off abruptly. Speaking of his mother was always difficult for Kurt, but Sebastian had shared so much of himself already and he felt compelled to be as open about his own past. “My mother passed away when I was young. I adopted her name as a way of remembering her and keeping a part of her with me.”  
  
The smirk had dropped from Sebastian’s face, replaced with an expression that Kurt had never before seen aimed in his direction — and if forced to guess, would never have predicted would ever grace the face of Sebastian Smythe. But there it was, a look of almost aching compassion and fondness that softened the edges of Sebastian’s angular face. It made him look at once much younger and so very world weary.  
  
Kurt felt Sebastian’s hand trail up from its position at his waist to settle with one warm palm cupping Kurt’s cheek. Sebastian’s eyes were boring into him and Kurt had to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid crying for both of them and the things they had lost. And to stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to Sebastian’s right there in the middle of the dance floor, for that too was a very real possibility if he continued to look at the man in whose arms he was dancing.  
  
But at that moment, Sebastian demanded his attention with a clearing of his throat, and Kurt opened his eyes. Kurt could feel Sebastian’s heartbeat, they were so near that their breaths mingled together, and their noses brushed gently once. Kurt hesitantly reared his face back a millimeter, surprised at how close they had become once again, and his cheek was still being held by Sebastian’s large hand, keeping it there. Sebastian reached his other hand away from Kurt’s to curl it around the nape of his neck and pull him closer. A question. He breathed, hotly, blinking twice, moving the hand down to his waist again, reassuring while Kurt stared. Kurt moved his own hand, placing it on Sebastian’s that was on his face, his nose tilting up just the slightest for the difference in height. Surrendering.  
  
“I,” Kurt gasped out, and Sebastian slowly surged in and their mouths connected, parting just slightly, perfectly. The music seemed to stop, and Kurt squeezed Sebastian’s hand. He whimpered, a tinny sound as their waists collided when he leaned forward more, reaching for something to grip onto and finding Sebastian’s jacket sleeve.  
  
All at once, the noise seemed to burst at him, exploding, almost everybody was looking at them, some were yelling. He was shocked to silence and immediately curled his body to Sebastian's when he was shoved by a patron, a large man with a bulky frame. His startled whimper was lost in the crowd along with Sebastian's soothing words into his ear as they raced away, finding a corner away from the ruckus while the confused and angered dancers searched on for them.  
  
Sebastian held him close and encased him in his arms in front of him as the ballroom erupted once again, outraged shouts reaching their ears as the angry man that had most likely started everything stalking up to them, screaming in an unfamiliar language at them. He was red as a tomato, infuriated, and just before he reached them, a blur of uniforms passed, and he was being hauled away by the armed guards. He yelled in their stony faces as he was taken by each of his arms, and was nearly off of the ground as he was pulled through the doorway.  
  
Kurt burrowed into Sebastian's chest, hiding his face there and attempting to hide, while Sebastian covered him, protecting. Though the main source of the trouble was escorted out, many of the other people were still shouting to him, and the lights in the corners were lit to help guard's sights to lead them away, or block them from tossing items at them in one case. Quinn was shouting, attempting to silence one half of the room.  
  
Her dancers had been ordered to continue with their routine (mostly to keep the king entertained for a while), but they were all watching the commotion and only half paying attention to what they were doing — limbs still moving gracefully with bare attentiveness. They glowed from the paint covering their skin, iridescent reflections against their faces appearing from the fire all around them. Their faces were covered as well as their hair, clumped with the thick paint, with strips of cloth and artificial plastics coloring them different spectrums of blue, green, and red. As they moved, the colors blurred together, creating a rainbow.  
  
~~~~~  
  
David Karofsky stood, his fingers curled tightly around the handle of the torch in his hand. He held it close to his own face, giving him extra light, but then moved it back again because of the heat. He heard the shouting, and moved from his position behind the throne to see better, curious. He could vaguely make out Kurt and that, that whore standing too close together, and he held back his growl of jealousy. He made to move, his rage fueling his movements. At that moment, a flash of blue crossed straight in front of him. His fingers stumbled to keep hold of his torch, but he failed and it slipped from his grip just as another dancer twisted her body —  
  
And then her hair flicked, and the flame caught onto it, flickering to sudden life and her entire head was burning in seconds. The dancer screamed in agony, the highly flammable paste catching fire all along her skin, down her clothing, while some of the bystanders stood still. Others moved to her aid, and David ran, forcing himself past people and thought the exit, feeling ill from the smell that he had caused.  
  
Kurt shrieked at the sight, watching as some of the girl's (she couldn't have been older than  fourteen) friends stepped forward to help, and unaware, their own clothes started on fire as well, until the room was being lit, there were screams of pain and horror as the fires were being put out quickly. Sebastian attempted to hold him back, shouting to him about safety, but Kurt tore away, turning and giving him a look of such disappointment that he nearly reared back. "Why wouldn't you help them?" He hissed, not waiting for an answer and storming away towards the large group of people.  
  
In the midst of the commotion, Kurt saw the king stand and was knocked into by one of the bodies, screaming in pain, and the leg of his pants immediately lit into flames. There were alarmed shouts and the king's eyes bugged out, and he shook his leg, trying to extinguish the small flame. It grew, and Kurt took a step, but was shoved to the side by a woman storming past him and Kurt could see that it was Rachel the Duchess of Berry. She raced forward and gripped the small train of her dress, throwing over Finn's leg and patting multiple times, both of them yelling in panic. The cloth was heavy, and soon the flame was put out and most of the others were out as well, and the people were standing, panting and not quite sure what had happened. There were mutters, curious questions of “who did it?” over the general roar of the crowd.  
  
Meanwhile, Sebastian was standing, stunned and watching Kurt as he attempted to help in any way. Finn was seated, speaking with an overly excited Rachel, taken aback at her bluntness as she retold her tale of immense bravery. Quinn, otherwise occupied, ordered many soldiers to be brought in and was ushering Kurt to her side and didn’t pay attention to her husband who had almost died.  
  
Sebastian scowled, wondering how his perfect night had gone so wrong. Kurt didn't even look back to him as he waved his arms, eager to give any assistance. Sebastian sighed, leaning back against the wall, knowing he had angered Kurt, and that was why he would not meet his eyes. He cursed to himself, at himself, and punched his thigh. It was too good of a thing to last long, anyways. Kurt was wonderful, and rich and beautiful and pure and kind — everything that Sebastian was not and right now could not be.  
  
He scrunched his face, moving to the exit and steeling himself.  
  
He would be that for Kurt.  
  
And he walked out, determined to change everything.  
  
~~~~~  
  
When everybody was mostly calmed and moving to a new song (“something fun and airy” Quinn had ordered, “they’re still shocked, give them something to relax again”) Kurt began searching the hall for Sebastian but found him nowhere. He turned a circle still looking, attempting not to make obvious how distraught he was by the lack of Sebastian by his side, but still found no trace of the man.  
  
Kurt could feel tears prickling at the backs of his eyelids but forced himself to swallow hard and repress the urge to cry. He had hardly known Sebastian for more than a few hours and he certainly had no claim over the man, yet Kurt felt that there had been a connection between them; that they had told one another things not commonly spoken aloud, not to mention the kiss they had shared and they way Sebastian had held and protected him.  
  
Kurt considered briefly the tales he had heard of Sebastian’s conquests amongst the young noblemen — the purely sexual relationships he’d had prior to his parents’ deaths — and thought momentarily that he had joined the ranks of those Sebastian had used and discarded.  
  
Yet their connection had not felt like any such thing. Meeting Sebastian had felt like finding the person whose every part fit and completed every part of him; a pair, dissimilar yet matched.  
  
Much like their masks.  
  
But now Sebastian was gone, with no guarantee of return, and Kurt was left feeling slightly heartbroken. He couldn’t help the feeling of doubt sinking into his brain; what if Sebastian  had become bored with him? Or had simply decided that Kurt would be too much work? Sebastian may have quite possibly felt that very same connection with multiple other men, but like them, it was very well possible that it was just a short spark. And short sparks barely ever turn to lasting flames.  
  
With that thought, Kurt left the party, giving Quinn an excuse that the smoke from the fire had given him a headache. She kissed him on the head, and he moved sluggishly, feeling ill and not at all up to giving a smile in return when Rachel caught sight of him. Her smile faded, but she kept silent, and Kurt walked to Noah.  
  
~~~~  
  
“Hello sir,” Puck said, his voice gentler than before. He had seen Sebastian leave and wondered briefly if he ought to have made an effort to stop the man. He hadn’t and he regretted it at the sight of Kurt looking tiny and fragile. “The Queen has a room ready for you to stay, if you would so please.”  
  
Kurt lifted his head, his hands in his pockets. His eyes looked bloodshot, and Puck wasn’t completely sure if it was from the smoke still drifting around the room or not. He shook his head eventually. “No, no thank you. But if you would please get my carriage for me,” he asked, and Puck immediately moved to do as asked.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Kurt leaned against the wall as he waited for his carriage, breathing in once and allowing his eyes to slip closed. They snapped back open when Sebastian’s face greeted him behind his eyelids and he was filled with a wave of sadness once again.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Sebastian sort of hated himself for leaving the way he had. He momentarily debated returning if only to say a proper goodbye to Kurt, but no good could come of Sebastian returning to that room and the people who had already judged both Kurt and himself so harshly for dancing and sharing a single chaste kiss. It was Sebastian’s fault that Kurt had been the subject of ridicule and that he had nearly been injured and he couldn’t bear the thought of causing Kurt grief of any sort.  
  
It truly was best if Sebastian simply removed himself quietly from the situation, and so he had done just that. Kurt would no doubt forget all about Sebastian, or would simply hold the memory as a story to be told — that one ball during which he had danced with a whore and caused the scandal of the night in doing so. Kurt would surely find a more suitable partner, someone whom society might more readily accept given Kurt’s own position in the court.  
  
The image of Kurt with another man, someone strong and attractive, flashed through Sebastian’s mind and caused him to blink harshly into the cold wind, attempting to hold back the tears that threatened. No matter how hard he tried Sebastian would never be that man; he would never be able to erase his history and become someone truly worthy of Kurt’s affection.  
  
He shook his head, forcing himself to recall the feeling of having Kurt held tight against him and the spread of contented warmth through his entire being at the way Kurt had looked at him and truly listened; the way Kurt had shared part of himself in return. He may never be good enough for Kurt, would likely never be the most socially acceptable choice, but Sebastian had been inspired to improve himself and his situation because of Kurt.  
  
And he would certainly try to become a man worthy of being with him.  
  
~~~~~  
  
It was nearly a year later before Kurt stepped foot into the hôtel again. There had been plenty more social events that he perhaps ought to have attended, but his father’s declining condition had made it nearly impossible. Traveling had already been nightmare enough for Kurt with the constant worry about his father passing away while he was gone.  
  
His father’s death was inevitable, it turned out, and in late November, King Burt had died of a heart attack. After that, Kurt had been lost for a time. He was crowned King, being the only heir left in their entire family, and ruled easily for a few months. The people adored him, having loved Burt as well, and many condolence gifts had been given to Kurt over the next month of his death. They had been unwanted, and Kurt immediately had them returned and given to the poorer areas of Italy that didn’t have enough to live comfortably.  
  
Kurt had stayed at the estate for a time, not willing to go outside and face the harsh reality of the fact that he was now completely in charge of an entire country because it meant that his father was gone.  
  
Time heals all wounds though, and when Kurt had received an invitation from the Queen, the third one in the past four months, he had called on his servants to bring him his finest suit.  
  
Kurt would have been a liar if he said he had never thought of Sebastian in the year since their meeting. Sebastian had been the main subject of Kurt’s dreams for weeks and weeks following the ball, including a number of dirtier fantasies (which were nearly always interrupted by his servants). But Kurt had long given up hope of ever seeing Sebastian again, and when he had finally arrived in France he had steeled his resolve and gotten rid of any hope he had. He also knew that even if Sebastian was present it was unlikely he would approach Kurt; therefore, having high expectations for this night would simply be ridiculous.  
  
He greeted Noah at the door as usual and fixed the lapel of his jacket. He let his eyes scan the large room, unable to keep himself from searching the assembled crowd. When he couldn’t spot Sebastian Kurt sighed but continued walking into the room. He could see the sympathetic looks directed his way from everyone he passed, but he pretended he didn’t and adjusted his hair, frowning when a loose strand of fell against his forehead.  
  
“Kurt!” Rachel had caught sight of him, and walked over, touching his arm. Normally it would have been exhausting to be in her presence, but she seemed to understand that sympathy was the opposite of what Kurt wanted right now, and he felt himself smile properly for the first time that day. “You look wonderful,” she said, her eyes scanning his outfit.  
  
“Thank you, Rachel. And you simply look a beauty, don’t you?” She giggled, twirling once under Kurt’s arm.  
  
“Thank you Kurt, I changed my hairstyle, do you like it?”  
  
She touched a strand of her hair, and Kurt nodded. “Simply gorgeous.”  
  
They talked for a few more moments, but Kurt made himself the promise to talk more to other people present this time, considering he would need to be aware of political affairs, now that he was king, so he soon left her. As Kurt conversed with more people that were dancing and mingling, he was well aware that many opinions of him weren’t as high as they had once been, despite his new title as the King of Italy. After the horror that was the February ball, rumour had spread about both Kurt and Sebastian faster than wildfire, impacting the opinions of many. There was a mixture of disgust, sympathy, and confusion, and Kurt was quickly getting tired of talking to men and women who didn’t truly desire his presence, even though they all maintained carefully respectful facades in deference to his status.  
  
After his sad attempt at socializing, Kurt danced with Rachel for a few songs, both of them laughing joyously the whole time. Rachel didn’t bring Sebastian up for the duration of it, for which Kurt was grateful, and they kept their private conversation to light topics.  
  
At the end of a song, Kurt eyed Rachel suspiciously; she was smiling brighter than usual for no reason that Kurt could see. “Rachel?” He began, but was cut off by a voice behind him.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
He whipped around, eyes widening because there was no way this could be happening.  
  
But it was. Sebastian, standing there dressed elegantly in a well-fitted suit and his hair coiffed up perfectly. Sebastian who currently had a hand reached out to him once again (and was it possible for his heart to stop because of this? It certainly felt like it was). Rachel stepped back, reaching a manicured hand to cover her abnormally large smile, and then left, going to speak with Noah who was watching with rapt attention in the doorway.  
  
Kurt didn’t think he could breathe, his torso still twisted until he turned the rest of the way to face Sebastian. Kurt stayed silent, waiting for Sebastian to speak. When the man said nothing, hand extended between them, Kurt immediately moved and placed his own hand against the proffered one.    
  
“Kurt,” Sebastian sighed, and Kurt couldn’t help himself, moving until his head was resting against Sebastian’s chest and he inhaled shakily. He didn’t know if it was possible to miss someone so much that he had met only once before, but he did, and the whole situation was quite impossible in its entirety.  
  
The way Sebastian held him tighter, curling his arms and his fingers tangling desperately in Kurt’s hair and shoulder made him feel much less ridiculous.  
  
Sebastian started swaying on his feet, but it was more of a hug than dancing despite the pretence. Kurt separated himself from the embrace, and Sebastian made a noise of loss, keeping them close even when Kurt moved back.  
  
“Sebastian,” Kurt whispered back, staring him right in the eyes, and placing a hand on his chest. He was so confused that this one boy — man really — could make him feel so much at once because his heart felt like it was beating straight out of his chest. And Sebastian just stared back, not saying a word, though his lips moved.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Sebastian couldn’t quite believe his luck, he hadn’t expected Kurt to want to have anything to do with him, much less had he anticipated Kurt nearly throwing himself into his arms. He wasn’t going to complain though; he would never complain about even one moment that he was allowed to see Kurt, to touch Kurt and have him in his arms, no matter what came next.  
  
Kurt was the main reason Sebastian was even at the ball, though at least this time he had not been required to sneak in. He had heard about Kurt’s father, knew that Kurt’s own title had changed and that it meant Sebastian was still not good enough for him even though he too had moved up in society. But he had needed to see him and had been coming to every ball for which he received an invitation in the hopes of finding Kurt there.  
  
Every time he had entered the hall in which a ball was being held Sebastian had scoped out the room, searching faces but never finding the one he most wanted to see. His hopes had not been high this night, yet he had entered the room and scanned the gathered crowd, nearly giving up all hope yet again until he had spotted the Duchess of Berry and the crowd had parted just enough for Sebastian to clearly see her companion.  
  
Sebastian had moved swiftly and had caught the knowing look on Rachel’s face in that moment before his whole world had narrowed to Kurt.    
  
Sebastian stood not even an arm’s length from him, Kurt’s hand on his chest and his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. All he wanted was to wrap Kurt back in his arms and never let go, but he knew that they needed to actually talk to one another.  
  
“I believe I owe you some sort of explanation,” Sebastian began, the words he had been planning for so long suddenly stuck in his throat. Kurt nodded his head, indicating for him to go on, and Sebastian felt a surge of courage because Kurt was willing to listen to him.  
  
“I realize that my abrupt departure the last time time we met was... less than ideal.” Sebastian started tentatively. Kurt rolled his eyes but waved one hand in clear indication that he wanted Sebastian to continue his explanation. “During the fire I realized that I absolutely had to leave, because the fire was my fault and I simply could not inflict myself on you further. I should not have goaded you into dancing with me when we were both aware that many people would react poorly. For lack of better wording, we were 'adding fuel to the fire.' I had to leave because I would only have caused you more problems had I stayed.”  
  
“You might at least have said goodbye.” Kurt whispered, head ducked and voice barely audible. Sebastian observed Kurt and saw how very vulnerable he looked in that moment - how much his leaving without a word had made Kurt believe that Sebastian simply did not care about him when exactly the opposite was true. Suddenly, he looked much younger than a King ever should, and it was heartbreaking.  
  
"When we,” Sebastian paused, knowing he was about to reveal his feelings to Kurt. He swallowed hard before continuing. “When we were dancing together, when we kissed” his voice cracked “— Kurt, it felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.” Kurt’s bright eyes darted up and met Sebastian’s own briefly. Kurt looked startled and hopeful; that one look was more than enough to push Sebastian to keep speaking. “Like I was supposed to be here with you. I was so lost in that feeling that I thought only of protecting you and did not even consider how much it might hurt you that I left without a word. You affect me more than anyone I have ever known. You are contrary for the sake of being contrary," he was smirking now, suddenly off track and speaking with more of a bite, "and can't seem to control that tongue of yours.”  
  
It was clear to Sebastian that Kurt was unsure if he was being mocked or not when he caught the haughty look on Kurt’s face and the blush creeping up the man’s neck. "I believe I had fantastic reasoning for being contrary at the time.” Kurt said, voice growing hard. “I may have a sharp tongue, but you are arrogant and insufferable!" Sebastian knew Kurt didn’t truly mean that and that the words were a defense against potential embarrassment (or worse, rejection). Sebastian reached out and gently squeezed Kurt’s wrist, causing Kurt to meet his eyes and see the laughter in them.  
  
Kurt seemed to catch on quickly, his shoulders relaxing and his face softening. "Again with the jokes,” Kurt declared, voice carrying mild exasperation.  
  
“Kurt, you are sharp tongued,” Sebastian began, “and it is clear to anyone who has met you that you are argumentative.” Sebastian kept his eyes carefully on Kurt’s, unwilling to allow the man to misinterpret him again. “There is no doubt in my mind that you are one of the most opinionated and outspoken people in this room. There is even less question that the two of us clash; that we will bicker and make each other completely mad with frustration.” Sebastian moved the hand still circling Kurt’s wrist, lacing their fingers together almost tentatively. “But Kurt,” Sebastian tugged on the hand and Kurt stumbled a step towards to him, “the point is that I want that; I want the arguments, I want you to simply infuriate me, I want for us to be able to forgive, and maybe not forget, especially what comes after the forgiving.” He aimed a lascivious grin at Kurt, who spluttered in response. “So,” Sebastian said, holding a hand out. “I am aware that you have responsibilities to attend to, but what do you say to letting me follow you around the world and back?”  
  
Kurt grinned, his emotions causing himself to become teary eyed. He never would have believed that something like this would have ever happened to him. “Are you presuming to proposition the King of Italy?” Kurt asked, making his voice intentionally steely and marvelling at Sebastian’s shocked look. Kurt held out for a long moment before his expression broke, softening into an affectionate smile. “You can follow me around the world, Sebastian, and I will follow you even farther than that.” Both of their smiles were blinding as they finished dancing to the last of the song, holding each other closer and closer, melding themselves together. “Though I can’t say I won’t argue with you almost all the way.”  
  
As soon as the orchestra changed its tune, Sebastian took Kurt by one hand. “And I have no doubt whatsoever that you will.” He leaned forward, and Kurt almost choked on his breath. He stopped though, an inch from his face. “Shall we go someplace else? I am feeling very much up to kissing you,” his mouth was too close, Kurt could barely nod, the dim lights reflecting off of his cheekbones.  “And we wouldn’t want to cause another riot, would we. We both know they truly couldn’t handle how well we work together, correct?” Another nod, and Sebastian was leading him away, down a hallway with a warm palm pressed into the dip in his lower back.  
  
He could see Puck chuckle as they passed, but couldn’t say anything, just letting himself be led, trusting. As they walked, Sebastian gave him a reassuring smile, rubbing his thumb across his dress jacket. “We don’t have to truly do anything,” he spoke tentatively, and Kurt couldn’t help but laugh, he was being sweet, and the fact that Kurt, the king, was so nervous being with Sebastian of all people, was astounding.  
  
Sebastian must have lead them to his room provided by the Queen (and oh how much things have changed for him, for both of them) because he was opening a grand wooden door with a small key that he was handed by a maid. “Don’t bother coming back tonight, you’re relieved,” he whispered to her. She nodded, shocked, and Kurt just lifted his chin, walking past them both through the open entryway as Sebastian followed him.  
  
Sebastian stripped his jacket, hanging it off of his burgundy chair. Kurt eyed him and then the bed, deep in thought. Sebastian was suddenly closer when he looked back, gently bringing hands up to run up his shoulders. Kurt turned, and they moved together as Sebastian stripped him of his coat as well, Kurt shyly biting his bottom lip.  
  
Sebastian moved behind him, twining his arms around his waist, kissing him on his neck, and nosing along his hairline as Kurt stared into the fireplace. “Kurt,” he breathed, like he was completely amazed that Kurt was here, like he’d been imagining this for so long, just like Kurt had.  
  
Kurt couldn’t help himself, he twisted his head to the side, biting Sebastian’s lip sharply and then kissing him. His body soon followed, turning as well until they were face to face and kissing, Kurt’s arms wrapping around his waist and the already burning fire contributing to the warmth in their veins.  
  
They clutched at each other, desperate hands roaming, and even though Kurt was far far away from home, his country, he felt like he had never even left at all. ** ** **  
******

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this was from Charles VI's masquerade celebrated in Paris, France in 1393. That's probably the only real history you'll find here, though we did a fair amount of background reading! 
> 
> Title taken from "Masquerade" from Phantom.
> 
> Please leave reviews, tell your friends, etc!


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